


Of Ashes and Embers

by Anxiety_filled_Brioche



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:07:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29324436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anxiety_filled_Brioche/pseuds/Anxiety_filled_Brioche
Summary: Demon is property of the League of Shadows. Chosen to be their weapon due to what she's already done, due to all the horrible things she's survived. She's being trained as their weapon, a simple tool in their eyes. But, the young girl has always had doubts, never fully complying, never ready to kill. She lost hope of escape long ago, simply opting to survive. When she encounters the Young Justice League things begin to change. Everyone around her is on edge. When her handler decides capturing the youngest member will disable the team, she is forced to comply. And from there everything changes and she gets the chance to rise from the ashes.
Kudos: 3





	1. Demon

There’s a sharp knock at the door. I’m already awake. The footsteps coming up the stairs was all it took. It’s Sportsmaster. My handler. It’s either time for training or we’ve got a mission that he wants me for. At least, I hope it’s one of those. The other options always prove to be much more painful. I quickly rise from my cot and put a fresh shirt over the sports bra that I slept in. I neglect changing pants. There’s not enough time for that anyways. I slide my combat boots on quickly and rush to meet him in the training room. I practically run down the twenty steps, the thirty feet straight, turn left, twenty more feet.  
Sportsmaster awaits me in the middle of the room. I approach him with caution. He tends to wait for me to get within striking range and then attack. Training. Or so he calls it. I’m pretty sure at this point that he likes to take his anger out on me when something goes wrong in the league or with his daughters. He is angry often. My prediction was right. He strikes out at me with a baseball bat. I roll backward out of the way and hold back a wince at the sound of the bat hitting the ground where I just was. That would have broken something.  
“Very good. Good reflex,” he informs me. As if I didn’t know. It was either have a good reflex or a broken rib. Been there, done that, I’ll pass on doing it again. The training room is rather small but also has built-in platforms and smalls walls just to make training more realistic. And entertaining to Sportsmaster or whoever else decides to watch from the observation deck higher up on the other side of the room. I run up against one of the wooden walls and launch myself back at Sportsmaster. He thinks I’m aiming for his face and prepares for such. I land a solid kick to his torso. A sharp inhale is the only tip that I hit him. Well, besides feeling it in my foot. I duck out of his reach once again as he goes to grab me. Rule seven: when it comes to fighting bigger guys, and just about everyone is bigger than me, never stop moving; getting caught equals getting dead. Ducking under his grab I attempt to sweep his legs out from under him. Not an easy feat and it does fail. The bat comes towards my head and I am forced to roll away, feeling the graze of the bat on my left side. Coming up onto my feet I pull a throwing knife from my thigh holster and send it straight at his right shoulder joint. Predictably he goes to block it and immediately I come at him with one in my hand. Bad move. He moves enough that the first knife sinks into his arm, but nothing vital. The other grabs my wrist. Squeezing a nerve painfully until I am forced to drop the knife. Easily, he throws me backward and my proximity to his target prevents me from not hitting the wall. The air rushes from my lungs as my back collides with the vertical wooden platform.  
“If you had aimed for the heart you would’ve lasted longer. How many times do I have to tell you to go for the kill,” he yells the last part. I do my best not to flinch but he sees the minuscule reaction. “It’s like you’re a glutton for punishment but I find it hard to believe that you actually enjoy it. You’ll get three lashes for your refusal to do your job and go for the damn kill.”  
I sigh heavily as he stalks from the room. Standing I remove my shirt and walk towards a wooden block. Getting on my knees I push a bit of the shirt in between my teeth before placing my forearms on the block in front of me. Just in time too. I hear his boots behind me and prepare myself as best I can. One. The pain hits me before I hear the sound of the whip meeting my flesh. Biting into the shirt saves me from an outcry. From more lashes. Two. He has remarkable aim when it comes to hitting roughly the same spot. My body reacts, flinching painfully before I can stop it. He waits, expecting a noise but he receives none. I will not give him the satisfaction of doing more than three today. Three. Slowly I unclench my fists. Knuckles white and nails dug in deep enough to break the skin, a little bit of blood. I remove my shirt from my mouth before standing and turning to face my handler.  
“Go let the docs clean you up and then get ready for a mission,” he barks.  
“Yes sir,” I respond before heading in the direction of the lab. I don’t bother putting the shirt back on. No use getting it covered and blood and irritating the slashes on my back just to take it back off when the quote on quote doctors take a look and them and ensure I can join Sportsmaster on this mission. Twenty feet straight, left turn thirty feet straight, twenty steps up and I enter the lab. Directly opposite in this small compound of my cell. I mean room.  
The doctors, the three of them, take pleasure in poking and prodding the whip lashes as I maintain a straight face and concentrate solely on not making noise or flinching. Eventually, I feel the sting of them cleaning the wounds, and then bandages are wrapped around my torso. At least there is some precaution being taken from me bleeding out during this mission or getting an infection. While I hate these men with a passion, they can at least prevent me from dying under Sportsmaster’s care.  
“Arm,” one orders. Judging from the voice it’s Dr.Hanson. The head doctor, the one who loves to inject shit into me and see the effects. I obediently raise my left arm so that it’s straight in front of me. I watch as the tall, thin man with his muddy brown hair and his eyes to match, inserts a needle into the inside of my elbow. I don’t know what it is but it feels like magic as before I’m out of the room my pain is no longer there. It likely had at least some morphine in it but there’s no telling what else. Twenty steps down sixty feet straight and twenty steps up. I’m back in my room and waste no time in getting dressed. Black pants that feel tight on my skin but have a surprising amount of pockets and storage. I strap my throwing knife leg sheath around my right thigh. I pull on my shirt, red on the torso but black up the arms onto the shoulders, the attached hood is also black. I put my contacts in, the ones Sportsmaster insists that I wear when I’m in uniform. They make my eyes appear all black instead of their usual emerald green, there’s no white to be seen. I pull on my utility gloves, which includes a small computer built into them, much like the boy wonders. I strap my utility belts across my chest so that they create an x. These have practically everything I actually need in them. Hesitantly I strap my pistol holster onto my left hip. I, myself, am not allowed to have the gun when not on a mission but it’s a good bet that Sportsmaster will give it to me before we leave the compound. Finally, I strap my mask to my face. It’s styled after a Japanese Hannya mask. The majority of it is red, but the teeth are white, the mouth is black and the horns are black. It even has fangs that reach down to the chin of it, which means mine as well. This, with the fact that my eyes are all black and visible, matches the name Sportsmaster gave me perfectly. I am Demon. Property of The League of Shadows.


	2. Santa Prisca

Sportsmaster awaits me at the entrance of the compound. The first thing he does is hand me my pistol, which I immediately holster. I hope I don’t have to use it. Behind him, a couple hundred feet from the compound is a helicopter.  
“We’re going to Santa Prisca to pick up a shipment, you are simply coming in case of interference,” he tells me. I’m positive another reason for me coming along is to prove that I am still alive. It’s been a while since I’ve been seen by someone outside of the league.  
“Yes sir,” I respond. “May I ask what the shipment is?”  
“Kobra Venom. I’ll finish the rest of your briefing on the way,” he says as he walks towards and then gets into the copter. I follow without another word.  
Arriving at Santa Prisca Sportsmaster and I exit the helicopter and walk between two lines of Kobra’s men. We walk, with me slightly behind him up to Kobra.  
“Lord Kobra,” Sportsmaster greets. I decide that the smartest thing is to remain silent and vigilant.  
“Sportsmaster,” Kobra returns as the tall girl behind him steps up with a box. “The shipment is ready,” he says and the girl opens the box revealing blue vials. Kobras eyes land on me. “Demon,” he begins, “it’s been quite some time. It’s impressive that you survived your last ordeal”. I glance at Sportsmaster.  
“Thank you, sir,” I reply.   
Kobra gestures to the big beast behind him. Humanoid but overly large. So much so that his skin appears to be having a hard time holding in all of his muscles. “A complete success. Our friends will not be disappointed.”  
“This is a game-changer,” Sportsmaster proudly states, flipping a vial in his fist to catch it once again. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. I glance around, looking for anything out of place. Someone is here, and they are not supposed to be. “Finally we can go mano-a-mano with the Justice League,” Sportmaster claims. There, above us. Not quite invisible. A shimmer of a humanoid shape.  
“I’m sorry to interrupt sir, but it appears we have unwanted guests,” I inform them while pulling and launching a knife at the center of the figure which quickly moves out of the way, but confirms my suspicion and reveals itself to the others. Interestingly, I hear gunshots from inside the factory. “And it appears they did not come alone,” I add. The figure begins to fly around and throwing Kobra’s men around. Sportsmaster's eyes narrow as he brings out a rod and extends it, revealing its sharp end. He throws it at the figure, which it just manages to dodge. Won’t help it much. The rod explodes and knocks it hard enough that it begins completely visible. She then, and obviously Martian. Reminder: keep mental barriers up. I take two knives out and begin to charge her. She seems distracted. Perhaps speaking to her allies? Doesn’t matter, it's to my advantage. I jump and spin, sending a knife flying at her. She blocks it and sends me flying with the force of her block. I roll as I hit the ground and come back up to my feet. Huh, Robin is attempting to take on Kobra. Such a bad idea. He really stands no chance. I continue to try and land a hit on the Martian but her plans become quite clear. She is trying to escape. Likely to regroup with her team. Once again she sends me flying and by the time I’m back on my feet she's gone. New plan, meet up with Sportsmaster and continue to protect the package.  
Sportsmaster is on the helipad and in the chopper when I return. I listen as it creaks and shudders but doesn’t start. Robin probably sabotaged it when he attempted to fight Kobra.  
“Sabotage,” my handler states. “Robin?”  
“Undoubtedly,” Kobra answers, his annoyance showing. He turns to the girl, Shimmer, I believe. “Find the problem. Fix it,” he barks. She bows and walks away. Sportsmaster steps beside Kobra as one of Kobras agents and the beast from before walks up.  
“Master, shall we send search parties after the intruders,” he asks.  
“Don’t be absurd, they’ll come to us,” Kobra snarls before walking away. They certainly will. But, I for one, will be prepared for them.  
A short time later and Shimmer has the helicopter up and running. I watch as Kobra agents load up the helicopter with products. I’m assuming it is all Kobra Venom but then again, maybe not; the special venom was in the silver box after all. It’s a lot of venom. I wonder who exactly is planned to receive doses of it.  
“The helicopter is operational, exhaulted one,” an agent informs Kobra of the rather obvious fact. Sportsmaster walks towards the chopper, silver box from before in his hands. He is stopped by a blur that takes out some of the agents, which begin firing upon it. No doubt it's Kid Flash. I pull knives out to be at the ready.  
“Take the shipment,” Kobra commands. As Sportsmaster and I go to enter the helicopter a large boy with a superman symbol lands mere feet away from the helicopter. His landing cracked the ground. Ok...Superman apparently had a kid. That's new. The boy attempts to engage the monster, only for Aqualad to take him on. Sportsmaster begins firing on the Superboy, I’m assuming that’s what he is. While he’s focused on Super I spot the same figure from before trying to sneak up behind him. Not so fast. I launch myself at her and kick her hard. Hard enough that it disables her camouflage and brings a gasp of pain. While she’s still shocked by the kick, which brought her to the ground, I grab and hold her in a chokehold. While I hold her, and Sportsmaster fires on the superboy we back up onto the loading bay of the chopper. I shove the Martian with everything I’ve got. She lands on the boy, knocking both of them on the ground. Sportsmaster pilots the chopper and we take off. I begin to make my way from the loading bay towards the front when suddenly there's an explosion. The loading bay is on fire and the back of the chopper is gone. Shit. I spot the silver box moving along the floor, the explosion popped it open and the vials roll amongst the fire and wreckage. Quickly I dive to the floor and snatch on up, slipping it into a secure pocket. Sportsmaster has lost control of the chopper. It lurches and I’m nearly sent flying out the gaping hole. I’m lifted from the floor by Sportsmaster who then jumps from the copter. We free fall for a few seconds before our descent is slowed. Parachute. Well, at least he decided to grab me and not leave me on the chopper. Speaking of, I watch as it lands on the factory. The whole thing explodes and then continues to burn.  
(Timeskip)  
Sportsmaster is livid. We’ve arrived back at the compound and I watch as he paces back and forth from the front steps. He’ll wear a line in the dirt at this rate.  
“We lost it all,” he growls. “What am I supposed to report to them now?” I don’t know who the they are, but I suspect that they are much higher on the food chain and will not be happy with what happened. I stand and warily walk towards my angry handler.  
“Sir,” I say, catching his attention. I fish the vial out of my pocket and hold it out to him. “I did manage to get a vial before the crash.” He stops and stares at the blue vial that I hold lightly in my hand. He takes it from me, stepping closer. I tense slightly as his hand comes down on my shoulder.  
“You did well. Get cleaned up and obey the doctors and security team. I have to make a report but I will be back to continue your training,” he informs me before heading to a, probably very new, chopper that is in the old one's place. I will forever be impressed at how quickly we can get new equipment.  
“Get inside,” a voice from the door commands. I turn and head inside as told. I forget his name, as it is rarely said, but it’s the head of my security squad. With the size of the squad, you would think that they’re trying to keep someone out, not me in. I head back up into my room and enter the very small attached bathroom. It’s just a toilet and a sink but it's a luxury. I remove my mask and contacts first. I wince as I remove my shirt. The drugs are wearing off. I use a rag and the sink to get somewhat cleaned up. I ditch my boots at the end of the cot before landing on my stomach. I fold my arms under my head to act as a sort of pillow. Closing my eyes I decide to try and get as much rest as I can before Sportsmaster returns.


	3. Tests and Training

I sit on an examination table in the lab. I’m impatient but I sit completely still. Apparently, Dr.Hanson and his colleagues have some new mixture they want to test on me. Not a hallucinogen. Not a hallucinogen please. Those suck ass and make it so hard to fight. I prefer it when they give me stimulants or opioids. At least those feel kinda nice.   
“Arm,” comes the order. I stick out my left arm once again, inner elbow sticking up. The needle enters easily, I hardly feel it. But I do stare at my arm. I look like some pathetic druggie. I can still see previous injection sites. I must look like a heroin addict or something. I grow impatient as I wait for further instructions. My right leg begins to bounce up and down. Tap. Tap. Tap. The sound of my foot hitting the ground over and over echoes throughout the room. I feel rather good now. Must be some sort of opioid in this mix. The pain from the last several days of training is none existent. Gotta love opioids. I hear footsteps and turn towards the doorway just as Sportsmaster appears in it.   
“Let’s go. Target practice,” he states, eyeing me oddly. I slip off the table and slip past him, bounding down the steps. I enjoy target practice, using guns, and well all sorts of weapons are fun when I’m not pointing them at a person.   
“The hell did you inject her with,” I hear Sportsmaster ask. I don’t stick around to hear the answer and instead continue towards the front of the compound where I’m stopped by security until Sportsmaster also arrives. I practically jump outside and rounding the corner of the compound I see a table about fifty feet from the targets. Which sit rather close to the cliffs edge. This was really a bad place for a compound. I mean who looks at the edge of a cliff and goes ‘ah yes this is the spot to hold a weapon in training’? Coming up to the table I survey the weapons that have been laid out for me. Rifles, pistols, knives, daggers, even a sword. There’s a lot of guns: AK-47, AR-15, Daisy Model 600, a couple of the Madsen LAR variants, a Vektor CP1, which is my usual pistol, an Erma la .22, the list continues. There's also extra cartridges and magazines for all of the guns. This will be fun. I wait for Sportsmaster to make it here and actually give me permission before I touch any of the weapons.   
“Why are you bouncing,” I hear him ask from behind. I immediately stop the movement. I didn’t realise I was until he acknowledged it.   
“Sorry sir,” I respond. I can feel him staring at me.   
“You may begin target practice just be aware that I am watching for accuracy and speed. You need to work on being faster at reloading some of the rifles.   
“Yes sir,” I respond picking up my usual pistol to begin. My aim is as true as ever. I begin with shots to the would be heart. I don’t miss. The sound of the bullers on the metal targets is incredibly satisfying. Over and over I hit in the same area until there's no ammo. I quickly change magazines and continue. The process repeats with other guns. Half way through I get bored of hitting the same areas on the four targets and switch to alternating between head and heart shots.   
“Headshot far left,” I respond to his command before I fully process what he’s said. It's a perfect shot. Middle of the forehead. The guy would be dead before he hit the ground. If it were a person and not a metal outline of one. He continues to call out targets and shots. It’s actually really fun. There’s not many interactions with Sportsmaster that I would describe as such but here we are. We do stop eventually, because I run out of ammo and knives. I try to suppress the bubble of disappointment. I should be happy that I’m done pretending to kill people. I should be happy that my interaction with Sportsmaster is at least closer to being at its end for the day.   
Looking at Sportsmaster I see that he’s surveying the targets. Following his gaze, I really take it in for the first time since I began shooting. We’re going to need new targets. The heads and chests have holes bigger than bullets. I hit the same spot, or close enough to the same spot to have the bullet holes combine into bigger ones. I didn’t miss a single shot. Although there’s no knife sticking out of the targets I am confident that those hit their mark too, just without enough power behind them to make them sink into the metal.   
“Good,” is Sportsmasters comment. I do my best to push the pride down. I should not be happy about it. It’s rare to get praise from him. I shouldn’t desire it as much as I do. After all, I don’t actually want to kill people. I enjoy the other missions: stealing things or information, spying, and sabotage. But killing? I haven’t had a single successful assasination mission. Mostly due to the fact that I refuse to carry out the assasination part.   
I follow him back inside but I feel myself slow slightly as I realize we’re going to the lab instead of the training room.   
“Did the drugs hinder her ability,” Dr.Hanson asks as soon as we enter.   
“No, they didn’t. She even seemed a little faster at putting in magazines in some of the rifles that tend to give her trouble,” Sportsmaster responds.   
“Well child,” Hanson addresses me, “you’ve done remarkably well. We’ll have to try a new mixture, or a higher dose next time. Or perhaps even both. Come,” he pats the table, “I need to run some tests. I swallow but hop on the table. They’ll probably do their normal shit, test reflexes and stuff and then see how long it takes me to scream when they electrocute me. They say it's to see how different injections affect my pain tolerance. I think it's because they’re sadists. Once again my prediction is correct. I can feel them connecting the electrodes to me. For once, I’d like to be wrong. I begin to focus on my breathing. In and out. Steady and constant. The shocks begin, low. Something I notice but is not necessarily painful. In and out. They steadily grow worse. They do begin to hurt. Don’t scream. In and out. My jaw clenches. My fists do the same. It hurts. In. Out. In. Out. In. In. No. It hurts so bad. I think my body is shaking. In. Out. Hurts. Out. In. The scream rips from me. I hate it. I can hardly hear it. But I feel the burn of it in my throat. It continues. Why aren’t they stopping? I’ve lost. I’m screaming aren’t I? That has to be me. I try to look, but keeping my eyes open is hard. Focusing is harder. Is someone talking? Yes. Who? Suddenly the shocks are gone. My screaming ceases. My body continues to shake. I can’t stop it. Spasms. I feel a coolness on my cheek. When did I lay down on the table? And face down? They wouldn't order that. When did I do this? I breathe hard, audible to me at least, trying to get it back under control. All I can hear is my own breathing. Rapid and uneven. Something is grabbing my shoulder. I roll off of the table, fail to come back onto my feet on the ground. Finally, my eyes open. They land on my handler, who looks very pissed, easy to see with his mask off. I see his mouth move, but I hear nothing. My eyebrows furrow as I attempt to concentrate on his lips. He repeats his statement. All I get is go and room but I can piece that together easily enough. I scramble up from the floor and head to my room. I nearly trip down the stairs but make it back to my room, closing the door behind me. I plop onto the cot, eyes closing before I hit it.   
I’m left alone in my room for at least two days. Upon waking up I tried the door only to find it locked from the outside. And this is why such things like rule six exist: stockpile food and water; you never know when you won’t be able to get more. I haven’t eaten anything from the small stockpile I keep under a wooden crate with a rock on it. It’s to keep mice and rats out of it. I have been drinking out of a bottle of water though. I don’t exactly trust the water from the sink from the bathroom, but I’ve got a couple more bottles before I have to resort to that. My biggest issue is boredom. I mean I don’t even have a book and one can only workout so much in such a small space with a limited water supply. I’ve begun to get a dull headache as well. I’m laying on my cot, counting the cracks on the ceiling when I hear the footsteps on the stairs. They don’t sound like Sportsmasters. They don’t sound familiar at all. I roll off the cot quietly. I balance on the balls of my feet. Quickly I tie my knife holster to my thigh and grab two knives. I’m ready just in time. As soon as the door is opened I throw a knife. It’s blocked with a chuckle. My eyes narrow as I recognize the figure.   
“Chesire,” I growl. “What are you doing here?”


	4. Taipei

“I just wanted to check on you,” she purrs. My eyes narrow. I call bullshit. I want to say that to her as well. But this is Sportsmaster’s daughter. I insult her and she tells him… well it wouldn’t be pleasant.   
“Why are you really here,” I ask. “The guards wouldn’t let you up here for a playdate.” She hums and begins to circle me slowly. I keep an eye on her the whole time but refuse to turn my body.   
“You see,” she begins, “there’s an assassination that I may need help with. I thought that this would be the perfect opportunity to redeem yourself.”   
“You know as well as I do that, I am not the one who gets to make that call,” I tell her. Why is she here? There was no need for her to come here. I don’t get to decide whether I go with her or not. That’s Sportsmaster’s decision. More than that, why is she asking for help. She’s one of the Shadows' most capable assassins and she comes to me, the most unsuccessful one. Somethings not right here.   
“Oh,” she feigns disbelief. “Do they still not trust their precious little weapon all alone?” She’s mocking me. I clench my jaw. Think. Slowly. Then speak.   
“After the last incident, I have not been unaccompanied, no,” I inform her. She hums again and then leans really close to my ear from behind me. I want to stab her.   
“How unfortunate,” she purrs, “I thought you proved yourself quite capable. Managing to get out alive. Even if you failed to achieve the objective. The very simple objective.” Deep breath. Don’t stab her. There are steps on the staircase. Quiet, for how heavy they are. Sportsmaster. Cheshire sighs in disappointment. “Looks like it's time for me to go,” she tells me quietly. She brushes past me and leaves. Both hers and Sportsmaster’s steps stop at the same time. I hear their voices, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. Their steps continue. Sportsmaster appears in the doorway. He scans me.   
“What did she do,” he asks suspiciously.   
“Asked for help on her assassination,” I reply. There’s no need to lie. I see no reason for our conversation to be concealed. Even if she had done something wrong, I have no loyalty to her. His eyes narrow.   
“Why,” he questions.   
“No idea for the real reason sir,” I answer honestly, “however, she did say she thought it would be a way for me to redeem myself.” His body tenses. It’s a sore subject. He was brought under question. His reaction to my emergency beacon was slow. Horribly slow when I desperately needed help. Honestly, though, it wasn’t his fault. But it wasn’t mine either. We couldn’t have known. He shouldn’t have been there. I didn’t even know he was real. I thought he was just some story; thought they all were. I thought wrong.   
“Get down to the training room,” my handler barks after a long moment of silence.   
“Yes sir,” comes the automatic response.   
(Time skip)   
Sportsmaster bursts into the training room, where I've been for the last few hours, and I suppress a flinch. My stance wobbles. I was stretching. Deep stretching that can be rather painful. My handler insisted that I be flexible and acrobatic… while the original training sucked, I admit it’s useful to be physically flexible when stealing things. Acrobatic moves have also become a big part of my fighting technique.   
“Change now, we have an urgent mission. Meet me in the chopper in five minutes,” he snaps. I quickly get back to a regular standing position and begin walking quickly out of the room.   
“Yes sir,” I mumble as I shoot by him and to my room. I change quickly, only slowing to ensure I don’t poke my own eyes out when I put my contacts in. Pulling my hood up to cover my hair I head to the chopper to meet up with my handler. He’s not usually this irritated when a new mission pops up. What is this mission anyway? It must not be anything good since he’s so pissed about it. I slide into the front seat with around a minute left. I’m handed my pistol. “Thank you, sir.”   
“You remember how to fly this thing right,” he asks gruffly.   
“Yes sir, I do,” I reply.   
“Good, you’re piloting then. We’re going to Taipei. Cheshire has managed to get herself caught by the police forces there and the sidekick Speedy. We’re to get her out and help finish the mission,” he explains. I happily take control of the helicopter. Piloting is one of the best things to do. I get to fly through the air, it feels so very free. If it weren’t for my angry handler sitting next to me. Wait...I thought Speedy wasn’t going by that anymore.   
“Sir,” I begin to ask, flying the chopper smoothly in the direction of our destination, “hasn’t Speedy stopped being a sidekick? I heard he was going by Red Arrow now?”   
“And where exactly did you hear anything about the sidekick,” he asks in a way that I tense slightly.   
“The guards do talk sir,” I explain, “and the doctors, sometimes in my lessons they include current events.” He gives me a look. The flight is mostly silent for the rest of the journey. I’m perfectly happy with that. In brief moments I can pretend that I am flying away from everything, instead of flying to help an assassin that I hate. It’s quiet until we reach Taipei, then Sportsmaster gives me exact directions to where Cheshire is being held.   
I stay close to the building where Cheshire is, where my handler is now. He’s probably placing the explosives right about now. I look across the city. I could fly away right now. I mean Sportsmaster left me alone while flying a helicopter. I could. I hear the explosion and bring the chopper back around to the spot that is the target pick-up. I see them running across the rooftops, Red Arrow at their heels. He only slows them momentarily. I lower the chopper so that they can get in.   
“Go! Go!” my handler commands the moment they’re both in. I already planned on it. The chopper lifts from the rooftop and out of Red’s reach. I hear something hit the side of the helicopter and glance to see Red’s hooked an arrow to our side and is dangling by a rope. Dumbass.   
“Are you even trying to ditch this guy,” Sportsmaster demands at Cheshire.   
“I really hate to admit it,” I hear Cheshire say, “but she has a point.” I’m guessing she cut the line Red was hanging onto. Hopefully, he survives his fall but doesn’t come after us again. I doubt he’ll do the latter. I shake my head and continue to our next destination.   
I land in a courtyard. The building, I have to admit, is beautiful, so is the courtyard. I hop out of the helicopter and follow close behind my handler. I try not to make it obvious as I scan my surroundings. I know this is property of the Shadows, but I can’t remember if I’ve ever been here. I think I might have, but I’m not sure. It’s familiar but it’s also new. Maybe it just looks like another Shadow base that I’ve been to.   
“Because I’m professional, I won’t kill you,” Cheshire snarls at Sportsmaster. I roll my eyes. They’re not looking at me and my contacts would make the movement hard to see anyways. “At least now while we’re on the job.”   
“You wouldn’t have this job if not for me,” my handler growls, “Grow up already.”   
“The evening's agenda was to create strife between nations,” a familiar voice speaks from the shadow of the doorway in front of us. Cheshire drops to a knee, I debate doing the same. Ra’s Al Ghul steps out of the doorway. “Not my assassins,” he finishes. I bow my head in his presence.   
“Master,” Cheshire says as she too bows her head.   
“And Client,” he responds. “So twice disappointed in your failure. Luthor has been a thorn in my side for too long. And peaceful countries rarely call upon the League of Shadows.” The hair on the back of my neck stands up. I slowly begin to look around. Someone is watching. I doubt it's the Martian. “So, I expect a better outcome,” he tells Cheshire and my handler, “and less interference from that boy.” I turn to see Red. I knew he would be a dumbass and keep chasing Cheshire. Probably had a tracker on the chopper. I pull out a staff and extend it. The sound and feeling satisfying. Red stands and knocks an arrow. It flies at Ra’s and I quickly step in between. The arrow hits my staff and I stay in the defensive stance that I slid into. I’m sure Ra’s has disappeared into the shadows behind me. A look from my handler tells me to stay put. I do, even though I really rather fight Red. He seems fun. The size of his arms is a bit ridiculous though. Could probably hold me down quite easily if I wanted him to at the time, anyways. I blink. What? Why would I even? I shake my head and try to focus.   
Cheshire runs towards Red, who jumps down to the lower roof. I hear him grunt from the impact. Amateur, honestly. Roll don’t do the superhero landing thing that Superman started. He finds his balance on the slanted roof and knocks another arrow as he runs towards the courtyard. He misses Cheshire, twice, as she runs at him. She kicks off one of the statues in the courtyard to get up onto the roof Red is on. Red kneels and turns to face her before she lands. He fires at her, she dodges the first and has to use her Sais to knock away the second and third arrows. Red reaches for his quiver once more, standing as he goes. Cheshire cries out as she goes to strike him. He back handsprings away, firing another arrow. Cheshire narrowly dodges this one, it cuts some of her hair. He’s an impressive fighter. It’s unfortunate for him that I’m pretty sure he’s lost track of Sportsmaster in this fight. Speak of the devil. He sends a metal discus at Red. Cheshire moves out of the way, giving Red just enough time to raise his bow, which breaks on impact. The discus continues and breaks part of the building behind him. Ra’s will not be pleased that they’re destroying his buildings.   
I don’t hear what’s said, but something must have been. Red goes completely still. He’s not even in a defensive stance. What is happening? I stand where I am for what seems like a long time. Sportsmaster and Cheshire are doing something to Red. I don’t know what. I know that it can’t be good. The hell did they do to him? After a long while, Sportsmaster and Cheshire go back to the positions they were in when Red froze. Red goes back into a defensive stance; Cheshire moves in on him slowly. I narrow my eyes. Red has no idea that he just froze? He tilts his head down and then looks back up at Cheshire. She’s completely relaxed and waving at him. Sportsmaster throws a staff that Red steps back to avoid. It explodes against the roof and Red uses the chance to dive off the roof into the water that I know is behind it. Sportsmaster heads back in my direction and after a long moment so does Cheshire. I fall into step behind my handler. What just happened?   
I sigh quietly in boredom as I wait next to Sportsmaster in the helicopter, that I didn’t even get to fly. We’re just waiting for an explosion or something from Cheshire so we can fly up to the building and get in to help her fight. I hear the explosion rock the building above. Finally. The chopper begins to go up towards the newly formed hole in the building. I pull out two extendable escrima sticks as the side door of the chopper is slid open by one of the ten henchmen with us. Tseng calls out something to his guards, but the language is one I don’t really recognize, let alone speak. The guards charge forward as the henchmen do the same. I follow behind Sportsmaster who is moving slowly, taunting the guards who stand defiantly before us. Cheshire does a high backflip and blocks an arrow that was headed for Sportsmaster.   
“Take Sportsmaster and Demon, Cheshire’s mine,” I hear Red tell a dark-skinned Atlantean that I recognize quickly as Aqualad.   
“So territorial, and only our third date,” Cheshire taunts. Really? Dates? I roll my eyes and get into a defensive stance as Aqualad vaults over Cheshire, doing a nice flip before landing solidly and running at me. My escrima sticks clash against his...water swords? Ok, that’s a cool trick.   
“Sup fish boy,” I ask.   
“I suggest that you stand down Demon, I do not wish to hurt a child,” he replies. Aw, sweet. I chuckle darkly.   
“It’s not me that’s going to get hurt,” I tell him. He’s stronger than me. I’ll give him that. I can’t hold his swords back in this block for much longer. I think he knows it too as he begins to press down harder. I lash out at him with my right foot. He wasn’t expecting that. It connects solidly with his abdomen. I hear the grunt despite his efforts to hide it. He backs up. We both stare at each other. We both have our weapons at the ready. We both are trying to figure out the next move. I grin despite no one else being able to see it. “You know, Red and Chesh, they consider these things dates,” I inform him. His momentary glance is all I need.   
In that second, I launch myself up at him. My foot was going to connect with his face, but he is good. My foot connects with one of his swords instead. I roll back as I land, just in time to miss the other sword that tried to get acquainted with me. As soon as I’m back on my feet I rush at him again, dodging his sword and landing a good hit on his side. I’m forced to move back to avoid his swords once again. My eyes narrow at him. He is actually really good at this. This could be fun. Or go bad. Let’s see. Pulling a knife from its holster I throw it towards his throat. He brings his swords together in an x shape and successfully blocks the knife. It doesn’t block me. My foot hits the same spot my escrima stick did. He winces. Before I can get back out of his range, I’m forced into the same sword on escrima lock as before.   
“You are admittedly a good fighter,” I mumble.   
“I can say the same for you,” he responds before his eyes widen. I release the lock, one of his swords graze my side as I spin and bring my escrima sticks up just in time to block the butt of a guard’s pistol. I growl at him before twisting the escrimas, taking his gun out of his grip. I then quickly send a kick to his side and then his face meets my escrima stick in an unfriendly way and he’s sent off to dreamland. I turn to continue my fight with the swordsmen only to see him fighting my handler with maces. I shrug and rush at the guard closest to me. He’s easy to take down. One down, like twenty or something to go.   
I take somewhere around a dozen of the guards around the room out. None of them present a challenge and I kinda wish I was still fighting the Atlantean. I launch myself off of a wall and land a kick to another guard's skull. He goes down before he knows what hit him. I roll as I land, stopping not far from where Sportsmaster and Aqualad are fighting.   
“Aqualad let’s end this,” I hear Red growl. There’s a small explosion. The sprinklers turn on and I feel my eye twitch. Had to go and get everyone wet huh? Glancing over I see Aqualand’s tattoos begin to glow to an almost white color. That doesn’t seem good. The shallow water from the sprinklers rises into a twister and becomes a serpent. That is very not good. The serpent begins charging and taking down the henchmen that are still standing. I flip behind Sportsmaster as Cheshire lands in front of him and throws something into the mouth of the serpent. The serpent drops and the water splashes around us. Smoke from Cheshire’s bomb covers the area. I follow Sportsmaster and Cheshire as they use this cover to leave the fight. Ra’s will not be pleased. I smirk. Looks like Cheshire might have to redeem herself now. The smirk slips off my face. However, something was off about this whole thing. It’s quite possible that tonight went just as Ra’s planned.


	5. Redemption

Training with someone other than Sportsmaster is usually at least a little fun. Today it’s nerve-wracking. I would be nervous even without the doctor’s damn drugs running through my veins. I know he’ll be watching me. Ra’s is here, to see where I’m at in my training. Why they put drugs in me for that I’ll never know. I won’t be fighting one of the guards. Ra’s has likely brought someone he handpicked for me to fight today. Losing is not an option. I take a couple of deep breaths and roll my shoulders back. The pops are satisfying. I’m standing just outside of the training room, waiting, I wouldn’t say patiently, to be called in. Before Taipei, the last time I saw Ra’s was right after the incident. My memory is blurry, but I know he was there for at least a little while. I think his daughter was as well. Or at least one of them. The elder? I’m not sure.   
“Kid,” I hear my handler shout and I enter the training room. The man standing in the middle of the room seems deceiving. He’s small. And rather young compared to other Shadows that I’ve fought. I glance up. Behind him on the raised observation platform is Sportsmaster, Ra’s, and his personal guard. I bow my head to him. I’m trying to be respectful to Ra’s but kneeling with an assassin in front of me is not something I’m willing to do.   
“You may begin when ready,” Sportsmaster states. My eyes go back to the man on my level. His stance is a little stiff. His hand twitches upwards slightly. He’s got a sword on his back. He likely favors it as a weapon. I’m fine with that. I don’t need to be that close to fight. Not until I want to. He shifts slightly, weight more on the left leg now. Is his right leg injured? It’s a definite maybe. I’m making him uncomfortable, even though it’s only been a couple of seconds. Alright, let’s get this over with then.   
I run towards the man as if I’m going to attack him. I’m not really. I don’t like attacking knowing so little. He steps forward in a slightly awkward manner, pulling his sword out, long curved blade, a scimitar. I flip back out of his range. I try not to smirk. He favors his left leg too much, his right one’s a weak link. Rule ten: when injured, hide it; keep fighting as usual or your enemy will take advantage. And he’s confused, which is just a bonus. I throw three of my knives. One aiming for his head, another for his chest, the third for his right thigh. He uses his sword to block the first two and sidesteps the last one. He comes at me and swings his blade, apparently willing to decapitate me. I somersault forwards, underneath the arc of the sword. Coming up to my feet I immediately send my elbow into his stomach. There’s a quiet satisfying swoosh of air that leaves him. Before he has a chance to retaliate, I drop to a crouch and attempt to sweep his legs out from underneath him. He jumps it and swings a foot at me. I’m forced to roll backwards to avoid it. The sword comes at me before I can get up and I jerk myself to the side, the blade connects with my side, I grit my teeth. Rolling back to my feet, I pull out the escrima sticks. This time I meet his sword, holding him in a block like I did the Atlantean. I swing my leg up and it smashes hard into his right leg, near the knee, there’s a satisfying grunt, I do it again before he can back out of the hold.  
“How’d you hurt your leg,” I ask teasingly. I chuckle at the glare I get in response. He steps towards me, his limp much more obvious now, raising his sword to almost above his head before bringing it down towards me. He’s getting annoyed. I dodge to the side and use a vertical platform to launch myself back towards him. I pull another knife out. My foot is aimed for his skull, and that’s what he focuses on. He blocks my kick but the knife sinks into his right leg, just above the knee. He drops to his knees with a muffled cry, I land just beside him. Before he can react, I swing an escrima stick into the side of his head, he crumples the rest of the way to the ground.   
“Well done,” Ra’s congratulates, his voice seems to echo throughout the room. I turn to him and kneel; the assassin is no threat now.  
“Thank you, sir,” I respond, my head bowed.   
“I believe you are ready to run a little errand for me,” he says.   
“Sir?”   
“There’s a certain gem that I need retrieved from a science museum in Starling City, the Ambre Jeune Perdu. I suspect that you can easily handle that,” he tells me.   
“Of course, sir,” I reply quickly.   
“Good, you have a week,” he replies.   
“We’ll start planning in a couple of hours, until then go stitch yourself up, you’re bleeding all over the floor,” Sportsmaster orders.   
“Yes, sir,” I stand and spin on my heels, heading back to the relative safety of my room. My side is in pain. Annoyingly so. Lifting my shirt in front of the smaller mirror above the sink I grimace at the small slash wound on my side. It’s bleeding a lot but it’s not actually that bad, a couple of stitches and I should be good to go. I pull my shirt all the way off and toss it on the ground somewhere behind me. I hate doing stitches. I pull the little kit I’ve got out of a box that’s just sat on the ground. I do my best to ensure that the needles clean before I begin. The needle going into the skin is always an odd feeling. It’s not a good feeling either. I clench my teeth as I continue. In, through, out. Repeat. I sigh as I finish, tying off the stitch and tossing things back where they go. I look at my handiwork, it’s good enough to stop the bleeding and to ensure things heal but I’m betting it’s going to add to my collection of scars. Pathetic.   
Glancing back into the mirror I can see many more of my collection. There’s the white line, jagged on my right shoulder. I wasn’t fast enough to avoid the knife that sunk into it. I didn’t pull it out straight either. There’s the puckered circle, smooth in the middle towards my left hip. The bullet hit nothing vital, but I’ll never forget the pain. I should have seen it. Should have known that they were there to kill. The small cluster of smaller white lines also jagged on my right side. Should’ve moved. I could have missed that bottle. The dark thick line that I know begins on my back but just follows the curve of my side to just underneath the ribcage. I was so small. How was I supposed to get him off me? How was I supposed to stop him and his damn crowbar? I shouldn’t have gotten caught, that’s the only way. There’s so many more. So many scares. So many mistakes. My reflection crumbles away. There’s a sound of shattering glass and I blink as the pain registers. I hit the mirror. I broke the mirror. Fuck. That’s probably another punishment if Sportsmaster ever sees it. I nudge the broken glass that fell into a pile with my boot. I run water from the sink over my hand to clean away the blood and glass. The sting is oddly satisfying.   
“Asset, you’re wanted in the lab,” a guard’s voice filters in from the door of my room.   
“Coming sir,” I respond automatically. I turn to leave, bending down to grab my shirt. I slip it on as I pass the guard. He’s the newest one. Young, probably twenty at most, and thus far he hasn’t given me much reason not to like him. Upon entering the lab I’m ushered to the back of it. Yes. This is usually where I’m given my lessons. I love those. Sportsmaster stands by the computer.   
“The gem is in the Starling City Science Museum. Figure out how to get in and get the gem. I’ll be on stand-by in the chopper a few buildings away,” he tells me.  
“Yes, sir,” I reply, slipping into the chair and beginning my research. And hacking. There will be some of that too. I relax as I scour the internet for any information that could be at all relevant or helpful. The security seems pretty easy and straightforward. There’s cameras obviously. Some motion sensors that will be easy enough to hack, so will the cameras. Those will have to be looped though because there are some guards and no doubt that they watch the security tapes 24/7. The gem is kept in a glass container… but is there weight or touch alarms? It doesn’t appear so, which is odd. If this gem is valuable enough for Ra’s to want it then it should definitely have higher security than it does. Unless they don’t know how valuable it is. Perhaps the gem does something they don’t know about or has something in it. Let’s see what upcoming events might affect this.   
A gala. Like the rich people make themselves feel better by donating money while drinking expensive champagne. Gross. But extremely helpful. It’s on the other side of the city, so cops are more likely to be on that side, making my exit of the museum that much easier. And the gala was organized by one Oliver Queen. Very nice. Won’t have to worry about getting shot with an arrow then. This should be an easy steal.   
(Time Skip)   
I’m on the roof of the museum. Starling really is beautiful at night. I slid the grating off one of the vents and slip in. I’ve already hacked in with my holocomputer. Heat and motion sensors are disabled, and cameras are on a loop. I follow the blueprints that I have pulled up on my holo to get to the room with the gem. Glancing down into the room I find it empty of people. Everything is quiet and still. I feel my eyes narrow. This is too easy. Using the holo I scan the room for more security. Ah hah. There are invisible lasers that no doubt would set off the alarm.   
Gently I take the vent cover off and pull it into the vent so that it doesn’t clatter to the ground and possibly trip a laser. This may be difficult. I leave the holo on as a guide since I can’t physically see the lasers without it. Carefully I jump to the ground, landing on the balls of my feet. The first wire is about a foot in front of me and is easy enough to slip under. The rest of the room is complicated but very doable. They probably designed these lasers for adults. Which I am definitely not. I flip over some and duck underneath others until I reach the container that holds the gem. I pull a knife from my holster and pry the glass up. Slowly I reach in and grab them gem before carefully lowering the glass back into place. I slip the gem into a pocket and zip it close. I repeat the duck and flip process back to the vent and suddenly I’m grateful that Sportsmaster made me do flexibility training as without it I probably wouldn’t fit between some of the lasers.   
I jump and pull myself up and into the vent before replacing the cover. Honestly, I know that people are going to realize that the gems gone, that’s a ditto. But if they can’t figure out how, it will be highly entertaining on the news. I crawl back up through the vents until I find myself back on the roof with the cool night air. I wish I could stay little while. It feels so nice here. I shake my head. Missions not over yet. I run towards the edge of the roof and jump, tucking my body into a ball. I roll on contact with the next buildings roof. I grapple up onto the next one as it’s a few stories taller. A few buildings later and I land next to the helicopter. I enter and slide into the front seat, next to my handler.   
“Well,” he questions. I pull the gem out of my pocket carefully and hand it to him. He takes it from me and nods his head, slipping it into one of his pockets before lifting the helicopter from the roof and beginning our flight back to base. “Do you remember Klarion,” he asks me.   
“The witch boy? Yes. Unfortunately,” I mutter the last word. There’s a sharp slap to the back of my head. Damn, guess he heard me.   
“Don’t be disrespectful. A yes would have sufficed,” he chides me.   
“Sorry sir,” I say.   
“Protecting him and this gem is your next mission,” he informs me. What? I want to ask why the hell the witch boy would need any sort of protection and what he has to do with the gem. Sportsmaster would get frustrated with so many questions. With me talking so much.   
“Sir?”   
“The gem will be used to split the world in two for a while. Adults and children in two different worlds. Klarion will be the only magic user to stay in the world of children. You will be tasked with protecting him and the gem from the Junior Justice League for as long as you can.”   
“This is just a temporary distraction for the League and their sidekicks,” I inquire.   
“Yes, I will be using the chaos to retrieve a package that’s needed. You will focus solely on your mission. Don’t disappoint me Weapon,” there’s an edge in his voice and I shiver slightly. I simply nod in response and remain silent.  
The whole Junior Justice League? That’s a handful. I’ve made sure to stay up to date as much as I can on them since Santa Prisca. Aqualad seems to be the leader, a good one at that. He has his water sword things, the fact that he can manipulate water, and the electricity thing. He’s proven to be a good fighter, a difficult opponent on his own. There’s the Martian, whose been so creatively called Miss Martian. Telepathic. That’s the biggest threat. She will not be getting into my head. Period. Fire should suffice to take her down quick enough. Superboy, again so creative, could very well be a problem considering I don’t have kryptonite. I guess I’m just going to have to hope Klarion or his cat demon can take care of him. Kidflash is definitely fast but he’s so predictable. If I can trip him up once I can knock him out for the whole thing. Artemis may prove to be difficult. She was tried by my handler as well after all. Taking out her bow would be helpful but she’s also a good hand-to-hand combatant. A knife may be enough to keep her down if I can get it in the right spot. Perhaps a shoulder joint. It would force her to try and stop the bleeding instead of fight. Robin is another threat on his own. He was trained by Batman. I’ve only encountered Bats once and I ran before an actual fight could happen. He will certainly prove difficult. And all of them together? I sigh and close my eyes. This next mission will not be fun.


End file.
